Pen Marks
by rebeckon
Summary: There were a set of the rules Demyx's mother wrote out, the list hanging on a board in his apartment. He vowed he'd break every one once he was eighteen, no matter what. And if he fell in love with a stranger along the way /see rule four/, so be it.
1. Prologue: Never Make A Career Of Music

_A/N: I'll make this quick. Thanks for clicking on this story. As of right now, I'm not sure if it's worth continuing. I hope I get at least a few reviews suggesting what I should do with this. :) I'd like to point out (in potential future chapters) the author's note will be place at the bottom of the chapter, so you don't have to read it first._

_The title's dumb, isn't it? I couldn't really think of something amazing, so I named it something amazing-ly lame. It refers to a thing, later on. (And basically, my inspirtation was based off this really weird fic I read on here a bit ago. And I didn't mean weird in a bad way, either. Anyway, I can't remember the title to that either. Wow I'm bad with names.) But yeah, so basically, this is a Zemyx. It also involves AkuRoku, and maybe some RiSo? And definitely some Marly x everrrrryone~. Haha, just kidding. Maybe. So, read n' review. Tell me if you liked it and if I should continue. Or that you hated it with every fiber of your being and I should burn it. Whichever, as long as you're honest! Thanks~! (Note: The italics, with the lines n' stuff are the part of the list. :D)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. If I did, well... Let's just say, if you're male, you'd be utterly gay. :D_

**And quite possibly, if I don't get many reviews, I'll probably discontinue this. :/ SO REVIEW! I'll give you sea-salt ice cream. :0**

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_Follow these like your life depends on it, sweetie! I love you. -mom. :)_

* * *

His mother had written a list.

On a bright blue piece of paper (when he was seven, his mom had come to realize if it's bright or shiny, Demyx Myde Cerise was attracted to it), rules were thoughtfully written in; slightly crumpled in its age. It was posted on the white space of his refrigerator, a 'recommendation' of sorts. He remembered coming home to her petite form taping the sheet onto the slightly ridged surface, how she smiled at him as she urged him over to look over the penciled in rules.

Sick. Even at the age of ten, they simply made him sick- because they dominated his childhood, manipulated it into something he didn't want it to be.

Kids were suppose to be expressive, be messy, and loud, and creative. But his mother approved of anything but. That's what made him sick. How his mother deprived him of a simple childhood, and was so god damn proud of that list.

But he smiled. Demyx always smiled.

_'Little boys don't kiss other little boys, no matter how pretty they are.' _

That was the last rule etched in, among the plenty already written. It was because his father divorced his mother to be with a man, and it horrified her. Disgusted her. Broke her. She wouldn't admit to this, but his mother didn't want her baby to be like his father.

And that was the biggest dream of all- Demyx, even all little boys, wanted to be like their father.

The blond had decided the second he moved out, he would dedicate his time to breaking every rule his mother had laid out for him. Though, some rules would have to deal with being broken before his coming of age.

He just liked kissing little boys too much.

* * *

_Never make a career out of music. You'll regret it._

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want any? They're on the house for our performers." Flirting as usual, Marluxia waved a cone shaped glass half-filled with a liquid, a light pink that was easily outshone by his own bright locks. "I'm pretty sure we've got something here that could kill those butterflies floating around in that tiny little stomach of yours- non-virgin."

The male on the opposite side of the counter shook his head, fingers idly playing with the frayed sleeves of his light blue hoodie. "I'm against insect-cruelty," he pathetically attempted to laugh, failing to at the sound of cheering; applause. "And alcohol." A few more acts before he was up, he mentally noted. He was so excited, he was nervous, and so nervous, he was completely nauseated.

"Marluxia, are you trying to serve an underage customer alcohol again?" The manager chuckled, sliding a beer to his own customer before making his way over to the two. "We're pulling enough strings with Blondie here being seventeen."

"I'm nineteen Xigbar."

The man was an odd character, so odd in fact, the musician thought him to be bi-polar. One moment, he was laughing his ass off and cranking out jokes, and the next, well, let's just say the last time someone tried jumping onto the stage with the club's dancers, did not end pretty.

The drunkard ended up with more scars on his face than Xigbar himself.

"Same difference." Distracted by the sound of a few complaining girls, the man rushed over to service the lot of them.

"Hey, Marluxia, could you please go get Axel for me? I'd really appreciate it." Though it was his first time performing in front of this crowd, the blond certainly knew it well, seeing as his best friend happened to be a (regular) performer and bartender at Oblivion. It was a medium sized club over packed with the sweaty bodies of newcomers and loyal attendees, who seemed to enjoy the owner's push for diversity. Most nights, Oblivion was your average nightclub- Rougher environment, sultry dancers on the stage, flirty bartenders behind the counter, and flashy neon lights that emphasized the glisten of moistened skin, like diamonds, the blond always thought.

But on rare nights like tonight, the lights were dimmed, not flashing. Tables were lined up, employees taking orders instead of prancing around the stage, were many unknown faces were currently lining up to give it their all; to give them a show they would never forget.

That was why he was there.

"Deeeeeeemyx-boy!" The blonde peered up to see the familiar redhead, a sheepish grin forming on his lips. The male swung an arm around the musician's shoulder, taking up the stool beside his lithe body. "What's up? Marly called me over, so I'm assuming you're a fucking nervous wreck."

"And Bingo was his name-o!" He sang, a hiccup escaping his throat. A hand suddenly found his mouth, as his eyes widened in pure horror. "Nonononon-hiccup-no! I can't have the hiccups! I'm-hiccup-up next!"

Axel chuckled, asking politely (or as politely as he could, anyway) for a water. "Calm down," he whispered softly, stroking his arm to comfort the man as he handed him the glass. "Now drink this now, and hope you don't piss on stage."

"Axeeeeeeeeeeeee-hiccup-eeeeel! Not funny!"

"I thought it was hysterical."

"You would," he responded in between long gulps. _Oh my David Bowie, they're cheering! I'm up! _Swallowing the last of the glass' contents, Demyx slid out of his chair, the arm that was once around him now hanging loosely at Axel's side. _Don't be nervous, don't be nervous! _

A pair of jade eyes interlocked with his for a moment, familiar tattoos giving him a spark of hope. "You'll be amazing. Got it memorized?" The blond only nodded, tearing away from the presence reluctantly. _You'll be amazing, just like Axe said. You have to believe in yourself, Dem. _

"Now, put your hands together for Demyx Cerise!"

_Omigod! _Panic, sheer panic, rippled through his body as he climbed into the seat in the center of the stage. _I can do this. _Unpacking his sitar, a sixteenth birthday present from Axel, he took a slow breath, silently thanking whoever that his hiccups were gone. "Hi, everyone... Thanks for coming here tonight. I know, you probably didn't come to see me, but I appreciate it nonetheless!" He lowered the microphone a bit so it was the perfect height to carry out both his sitar's notes and his voice, face flushing pink at the sound of what he assumed to be one of the bartenders yelling 'Play that funky music white boy' across the room.

"I hope you like it."

The second he began strumming the instrument, he suddenly didn't feel so nervous. He looked up once, lips parting against the head of the mic as prepared to belt out a ballad he had carefully picked out- when his sea-green gaze met the most amazing set of cobalt they had ever seen, in the midst of the crowd.

"This is for you..." Demyx mumbled, never tearing away from the pair of eyes watching him with a subtle interest. "Table four!"

His first time performing, and he was dedicating the song to a stranger? Why not Axel, or the staff, or the whole crowd of people waiting to hear him? No matter, because the man was now sitting up awkwardly in his seat, eyes narrowed as he focused on the blond, ignoring all the stares in his direction. The musician had gotten his attention, and now, all he could do, was sing.


	2. Never Talk to Strangers

**Disclaimer: Do I really have to explain why Kingdom Hearts isn't mine and this is only a FAN fiction? Because that dampens my mood. **

* * *

_Never talk to strangers. _

* * *

"Damn boy, did you play the funky music well for white boy, or what?" Xigbar couldn't help but chuckle as the blond approached, sliding into the chair with the most amused grin. _I should have known it was Xigbar. _"Beverage for the star?"

There was a pleased nod in reply. "Coffee, five sugars n' cream, stat, Xiggy!"

"Did Marluxia spike your water, Blondie?" The older man raised his eyebrow in curiosity, bending down to retrieve a darker colored mug from underneath the counter. "And does Axel approve of all that sugar?" He merely shrugged at the question, tapping his fingers along impatiently.

"Of course he does..." Cue guilty smile.

"Seriously, what am I going to do with you kid?"

"Give me coffee?" He twisted his lips into a pout, batting his eyelashes. "Pretty please, with lots of sugar on top? Okay, preferably mixed in, but you know what I mean!" Whilst Xigbar continued to prepare the beverage (decaf, splenda, shush), Demyx turned his gaze back to the crowd, blue-green eyes scanning for Mr. Cobalt ( as he so cleverly named him), having no luck in the slightest. _I must have scared him off... _

Hands on his hips, Marluxia scowled at the manager in distaste, babbling on about something like 'Ohmygod Xigbar, you didn't tell me he was back! Bastard!' or rather, swears flying out everywhere before the worked up man turned his attention back to Demyx with a catty grin. "Ohhhhh Dem, please tell us about Table Four~! Which one was it? Emo boy or that cute little blond?"

"We're all mighty curious," Axel interrupted, placing a tray down next to the pink haired man's propped elbows. Catching his attention, the musician perked up at the sound of their intrigued tones of voice.

_There was someone else?_ "It wasn't the blond, and don't call him 'Emo boy'." He vaguely remembered anyone else being there. But, then again, he was awfully distracted by the other...

"Dibs on his friend then. I served them their drinks, and man, he was so into me." After a jokingly added in 'conceited' from Demyx, Axel ruffled his mess of hair, lips pursed in thought. "So what _is_ his name?"

The blond twiddled his fingers in a nervous manner, bright eyes flashing behind the bar in attempt to avoid contact with his friend's gaze. "How's that coffee coming along, Xiggy?"

"Don't rush me, brat!" The man snapped back.

He held up his hands defensively, muttering an apology before sighing and turning back to the waiter. "I don't exactly know, to be honest. I saw him in the crowd, got caught up in the moment, and just... kind of shouted out to him. I think I just wanted his full attention."

There was a moment of silence shared between the two figures. "...Looks like you did." There was an unmistakable smirk playing his features. He pointed as discreetly as one could, behind him, sending the blond to look back.

There he was, Table Four and cobalt eyes. He sucked in a long breath, his heart thumping repeatedly, even more so than when he was preparing to go on. But man! This guy was beyond gorgeous- in that, smaller, angrier way. "Shit Axel! I don't know what to do!" His words were hushed, but clearly distraught, through his teeth.

"Be yourself, loverboy."

"Axel-"

"And maybe, you can cross off 'Don't talk to strangers off your list." He disappeared with an eyebrow wiggle, leaving the male to contemplate over possible escape routes. Why was he acting like this? He has clearly brought this upon himself by calling out to him.. But now, all he wanted to do was run.

"Nine," the voice was soft, almost melodious, a slight edge sending shivers down the blond's spine and throughout his body. Demyx gripped at the newly presented coffee, muttering something incoherent to a snickering Xigbar. "Number nine." It repeated. He could feel those dark eyes boring into the back of his neck, watching him with an intense glare.

"Act nine, sitar-boy, blondie, you there drinking the damn coffee." He couldn't deny it now, Mr. Cobalt _was_ talking to him. He was act nine. He played the sitar. He was obviously blond. And, he stared into the luke warm liquid, he was ' drinking the damn coffee'.

Turning with the stool, he cleared his throat as he gaped at the painfully attractive man. "Y-yeah?" _Did... I just stutter? _

"Why did you do that?"

"D-do what? I haven't the..." Demyx swallowed, coaxing his throat in order to speak audibly, "...slightest... idea..." _Why am I having so much trouble piecing together one sentence? I'm not that much of a wimp... am I? Come on, Demyx! _But he just stared at him like an object; a test subject waiting to be observed- a seemingly flawless specimen in his own little world.

"Are you incapable of speaking like a human being?" Mr. Cobalt rolled his eyes, lip curled in an obvious anger. "Here, let me teach you. Roxas, I won't be long." With a tug of the blond's hoodie, he led them towards the boy's bathroom with an unaffected expression.

His friend only watched at what he thought to be the performer's demise. "Well, he's fucked."

"Zexion... doesn't deal with surprises too well. Really, he was flattered-" Blue eyes looked up to meet the sight of disbelief the redheaded man oozed, "-for a moment. Now, he's just steaming."

"Odd," he smirked at the boy, supposedly named Roxas. _How cute._ "Care for a drink? It's on the house."

His pale face bore shock and a certain sense of not-so-innocent curiosity. A pink tongue grazed his upper lip, catching Axel's attention whilst he moved closer. "I'm underaged."

"I've got connections." It usually worked with everyone else he used it on. He gestured for the male to take take a seat, hands lingering on his chair; his back; his shoulder- as he asked the more easygoing bartender for a drink. The blond didn't seem to mind the apparent attempts to get close, neither pushing him away nor leading him on.

"Roxas. M'name's Roxas," he finally said, impatient with the silence and playful grin. "Strife."

"Axel Vatra."

_This was too easy._

* * *

"S-So, what's your name?" Demyx shifted uncomfortably as he was pressed against the wall of the single bathroom, Mr Cobalt locking the door with a small twist. He chose to ignore the question, he chose to ignore the fear in the singer's eyes, to ignore it all as he pressed closer. "Um, what are you doing?.."

Being so close to the angry man, made the blond noticed the heavy scent of alcohol that clouded the small space between their mouths. He shuddered under the dark gaze of his captor, coaxing his throat in saliva- dried, making it impossible to speak, or breathe.

"Zexion Iliuzija."

"...How do you even spell that?"

"With letters," Zexion responded sarcastically, keeping the squirming figure in his hold. "Now, why did you do that? You embarrassed me, and quite frankly, yourself, number nine."

He looked down (he was noticeably _inches_ taller than the slate-haired male) to meet his stare, clearing his throat awkwardly before speaking. "You can call me Demyx, actually..." All he received was a glare of impatience. "I dunno, I got lost in the moment... You know, when you get nervous, or something, and stuff just... comes out? An impulse... And I saw how your eyes seemed to just stand out... and you... were just so pretty under the lights-"

"Pretty?" Zexion didn't seem so impressed with this adjective. Fingernails bore into his shoulders, seeping through the fabric of cotton, into his flesh.

"You know, nervous? I babble on and on and on-" He was cut off by lips. Pale, deliciously soft lips; that pressed into him furiously, angrily, deeply- though he found himself not caring about the sure-to-be bruising affects of Zexion's mouth against his.

Demyx let out a soft moan, as the other's slick muscle traced the outline of his lower lip. He wanted to question his actions, but couldn't bring himself to stop the kiss. Instead, he permitted the slate-haired male to probe and wander around his mouth, shivering in pleasure as his tongue grazed his very own- offering to dance to bring forth passion.

And then it ended. Almost as quickly as it began. Zexion pulled away from the singer, whose breathing was distorted from their previous actions. "W-woah.."

"Never pull a stunt like that again."

"B-but you just... why?" Hands released the blond, the other's figure slinking away from his body.

He shrugged lightly, unlocking the door with a satisfied expression. "Call it an impulse or rather. Don't forget what I said, Nine."

"Zexion!" Instinctively, he tugged on the male's sleeve, begging him to wait to open the door. He stood there silently, awaiting with his dark gaze upon him- curious, yet annoyed. "My name is not nine... It's Demyx. Don't forget."

The blond released his shirt, hand finding his side in its limp state. "Demyx..." It rolled on his tongue, almost... pleasantly, he thought to himself, agreeing with the adjective. "Goodbye, Demyx." Zexion let it leave his lips once more before exiting the bathroom, leaving the male absolutely speechless.

It took a moment for Demyx to recuperate, splashing his face with water from the sink helping with his paralyzed state. His cerulean gaze met their reflection, and he just stood there- watching with an intensity he couldn't quite understand. He wasn't too roughly involved with the man by the name of Zexion, and with a quick fix of his hair, it didn't seem like anything other than a friendly' chat. Which, he decided, would be what he was use to describe it to the boys. After a small debate with himself, he left the comfort of his reflection and back into the relaxing state of the club's atmosphere.

Maybe tonight would be the night where he would cross that rule about alcohol off the list.

* * *

Waiting right outside the bathroom, Axel had his arms crossed over his chest in disappointment. "You really couldn't have stalled him longer? I was just about to get the friend's number."

Though at first startled by the sudden appearance of his best friend, he recovered quickly with a distorted sigh of relief."That sucks for you, doesn't it?"

"What's up with you, grouchypants? What happened in there?"

"Let's see, I first, got pinned to a wall," Demyx mumbled, ignoring the 'kinky' the redhead added with a smirk, "and then I got scolded for calling his table out. He proceeded to tell me never to do that again, kissed me, and then left."

"Oh, wow, this is serious." He rubbed his chin in thought, eyes showing deep concern and interest. "...peck, or openmouthed free-for-all?"

"Axel!" He groaned, running a hand over his face in frustration. "Of course you'd think that's the most important part of it. What you should be doing is helping me figure out what the hell just happened and WHY he kissed me, when he was so mad!"

"Roxas said he was drunk," he shrugged, "Maybe he was just feeling a whole mix of things, and it just happened."

Demyx frowned at this. "He seemed completely sober, Ax. I mean, I... smelt the alcohol, but he seemed... so not. Is that possible?"

"I really don't know what his deal is, nor do I care. What I _do_ know, is that you have a special visitor looking for you up at the bar. Big, tan, scary ass mother fucker... ringing any bells?" Axel raised an eyebrow of curiosity at the look of shock plastered to the blond's features. "He asked me to come get you about five minutes ago."

"Your boss wants to talk to _me_? Why?" He only met the owner of Oblivion, Xemnas Etheral, when he happened to stay after hours with Axel. He was quite big, in a tall, toned sense- though not quite a Lexaeus (the bouncer of the club), with bright, unusual eyes that scared the living shit out of Demyx the second he met their stare for more than a minute. He didn't seem so thrilled then to see a non-employee at his establishment after hours, but let him be, disappearing out the back door not too long after coming in to talk to Xigbar.

"Does it look like I know?" He rolled his eyes, dragging him back up front towards the bar where the silver haired man stood (it was rare that he came out during the club's open hours), apparently waiting for **him**.

"Mr. Cerise," his voice was deeper, thicker, than he remembered. "I'd like to personally congratulate you on your performance. I must say, it caught the crowd's attention, and mine."

"T-thank you Mr. Etheral... I appreciate it."

"I prefer you call me Xemnas, Mr. Cerise," he corrected, closing his eyes for a moment, allowing Demyx's muscles to relax from being under his gaze. "How did you like performing for the crowd, tonight?"

He really wished he had a drink to kill the nerves now, looking up at the man as he swallowed repeatedly, finding that his throat decided it'd like to stay dry on him. "Very well..," his voiced cracked, "I was nervous at first, you know... but I felt like I belonged there the second I started singing."

"So you enjoyed it?" Xemnas asked him with a look of subtle intrigue. Demyx could only nod, for fear that his voice wouldn't work again- which would have made him die right on the spot out of sheer embarrassment. "Good, good. I have a proposition for you. As you know, every Friday, we have nights such as this one, with several acts that sign up to perform."

Yes, of course he knew this. He was there every Friday, singing along in the crowd with the braver of the people who dared to go on stage. How could he not? "As of next week, that will be ending, and will become only a once a month event. However," the manager of Oblivion added, "for the remaining three Fridays of each month, the coffee house theme will stick with us, but there will be only one performer. I would like you for the job."

The musician's jaw dropped in disbelief. "You want me... of all people? There are tons of other performers that people like, who've played here several times before!"

"You have talent," Axel intervened, "raw, unfiltered talent, with several instruments, and a wide variety of genres. Our club likes diversity, and I convinced Xemnas that if you don't supply us with anything good, or such, he could fire your ass."

Blue eyes laughed, mimicking their owner's lips. Sometimes, he just had to love Axel. "You won't be disappointed sir."

"You'll also, on days you aren't performing, be working as a bartender. Xigbar will be helping you learn the rules. That is all. You begin tomorrow." He looked over to the redhead, then to Demyx, then turned on his heel to walk out the door.

"...Holy shit," the new employee murmured, shock still clouding his eyes and stiffening his body.

"Welcome to the family, kid," Xigbar grinned, ruffling his styled hair much to his displeasure. "Though I'm pretty sure Xemnas knows you're underage, I don't think you should mention it. Even though you won't be drinking any, or anything. Now get home and be here at six. You have a long night ahead of you."

"Right, thanks. I'll see you, Ax."

"Congrats, once again," he replied, patting his shoulder affectionately. Demyx gave a small smile back, pulling his sitar case up from over the bar (thanking his friend for putting it back there after being dragged off by Zexion), and waving to the bartenders before heading out.

Though he was completely ecstatic about the idea of working at Oblivion, seeing as he was there almost every night anyway and was now getting paid to be there, and especially about playing his own show for them, it wasn't enough to push the thoughts of Zexion Iliuzija out of his head.

"Goddammit."

He didn't even get his alcohol.

* * *

**A/N: ****Oh my word, internets at my grandma's house. I was like 'I'M NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO POST THIS UNTIL TUESDAY NOOOOOO'. But now, here it is. Posted. I could cry.**

**I want to thank you all for faving, reviewing, and adding this to your alerts. I hope keep on doing just that. I know Zexion's kiss seems OOC, but y'know, he's drunk. I like making him an easily angered lusty drunk. A happy drunk is just too expected from such a quiet man. But anyway, I love you, free cookies, review!**

**Question a la chapter one: **

**What does Axel's last name mean? And what language is it in? :D **

**(I probably won't have a question every chapter, but hey, I WANTED to do this nao.)**

**And though Zexy's is kinda obvious, you can tell me what his means as well/language~**

**Lemme know if I should continue, ne?**


	3. When Guests are Over

**Disclaimer: Dear whoever needs me to write this: You make me cry myself to sleep for making me admit I do not own Kingdom Hearts. **

* * *

_Be polite, proper, and act your best whenever guests are over._

* * *

The blond stared emptily at his apartment. He had nothing to come home to- it was just a messy house, which he tried to avoid the most he could, because he knew, every day that he went out, he would come home to find it empty of any value.

Sometimes, there were moments were he felt like he was empty himself. Hallow, deprived of anything important, just Demyx. All he had set in life was crossing out those stupid rules on the list, and in all reality, it wasn't enough.

Demyx twisted the door shut, repositioned the lock, and flicked the light on. His eyes stung for the first moment, but readjusted soon after as he made his way over to kitchen counter- where he carelessly tossed his keys onto the marble and hit play on his voice machine.

Five new messages.

"Hey Demyx," a soft voice breathed, "It's Namine... Mom wanted me to call and remind you about dinner plans for Saturday, though I'm sure she's just going to call you herself. Have a nice day, alright? I love you Dem."

He smiled down at the machine, wishing his sister was right there just so he could ruffle her hair. Letting his finger linger over the delete button, he finally pressed it, ready for the next, which of course was none other than his mother.

"Demyx, where are you at this hour? It's six, I'd figure you'd be home feeding yourself. Maybe you're out with a nice girl? Oh that must be it, fingers crossed! ...So, dinner plans-" The blond hit delete before he could finish the message. She was so nonchalant, no, oblivious.

"Dem-" _No mom, I don't want to hear your voice at the moment, please don't leave a message after the beep._ He rubbed the back of his head, erasing the third one almost instantaneously after hearing his mother's singsong voice for the second time.

The fourth and fifth messages were his mother again, reminders he guessed, seeing as he didn't really listen. He got it- tomorrow, have dinner with the family, risking setups and awkward moments- it all sounded like a delight to him.

"Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit." Oh, and he wasn't really 'allowed' to swear. But this situation required a dirty mouth. He slammed his hand onto the counter, pain rushing through his palm as he glared at the machine, now devoid of messages.

He had work tomorrow. How was he going to explain this one to his new boss?

* * *

"Damn, that sucks. Hope Xemnas doesn't fire your skinny little ass."

"Thanks Axel, you really know how to cheer up a guy." Demyx buried his face in his arms, not wanting to look at his friend, nor anything else. The darkness his arms created proved a nice shield from the world. "But seriously, I don't know what to do. Xigbar has every intention of keeping me here for hours upon hours. I have to be there at six, in order to help with our seven o' clock dinner."

The redhead pressed his lips together, resting an elbow on the bar table. "Well, one thing you could do, is ask."

"Oh thanks," he replied sarcastically, "I hadn't thought of that. Look, Axe, it's my first day on the job, and asking to leave early won't cut it."

"You're such a wuss. You don't know that. You come here every night, Xigbar knows you like the back of his eyepatch," Axel attempted not to laugh, failing as his words were interrupted by fits of giggles, "and Xemnas liked you enough to hire you personally, without you even applying. Everything seems to be swinging your way, so make like fucking Tarzan and get on that vine."

Demyx peeked out from his little nest. "Have I ever told you, how you **don't** have a way with words? That made no sense."

"Shut the fuck up and I'll talk to Xiggy for you." Not one to resist an offer that would help him avoid an awkward confrontation, he pretended to zip his lips, locked the door, and threw out the key. Sometimes, he had to love redheads.

* * *

Axel beamed as he slithered in behind the bar, where the blond was being trained by an overly irritated Marluxia. "No, the Caruso is the one with the mint, blondie. Be careful! Damn, let me get paper towels." He was rubbing his temple as he left to go find something to pick up the mess.

"Ouch, looks like you fail at mixing drinks." He teasingly nudged him, though all he received in reply was a glare." So guess who is the best, best friend, in the whole freakin' universe?"

"Let me guess," his cerulean gaze was locked on the spill, fingertips brushing along the edge of the counter to avoid dripping, "you. What did he say?" His eyes flashed to him, hopeful.

"He can get you out at six. Which means, since your mom lives like, an hour away," _Thank the Lord for that, _Demyx mentally sighed, "you'll get there around seven-ish. Which, is still a bit late, but at least you're making it there, right?"

He wrapped his arms around Axel in a tight hug, practically bouncing. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou."

"Hey shitheads, stop molesting each other and help me pick this up before Xigbar has all of our asses. Both figuratively and literally." Pulling away from the other, they scrambled over to assist the pink haired man in picking up.

Only four more hours until he was out, and five until he was sitting down, waiting for the hell he called family dinners.

* * *

In the Cerise household, family dinners were held every night. You had to eat with your family, at the table, like a traditional family, and you could never, say nothing. Lyza Cerise made sure that everyone contributed to the conversation, no matter the atmosphere, or the person's mood- another tradition of sorts, in which she used to keep track of her son and daughters.

When her eldest, Larxene, moved out to live with her boyfriend, they hardly talked. Which also meant, she was no longer in control. That was something that the woman feared, but she would not let consume her. So, two nights a month, she invited the older sibling home for a visit. And when Demyx moved out as well, he agreed to the visits, though he knew their actual purpose.

Soft eyes looked upon the picture their owner held dear, three little blondes, crowded around their parents in a pumpkin patch. It was taken a week before Halloween, years ago when the holder, Namine, was merely seven, Demyx had been nine, and Larxene fourteen, new to the experience of being a teenager. There had been a fight later that day, one the petite blonde vaguely remembered, though she knew it was about Larxene being able to take her younger siblings out trick or treating by herself. Dad had been all for it, enthusiastic about his little girl growing up, whilst her mother, was not.

That was when the fighting became apparent. Sure, Namine being the quiet observer, had noticed the tension between their parents before their fights took on a more verbal approach, but at the young age she was at, she couldn't place what it was. She just knew it was there, lingering and choking, and ripping their family apart.

They never had a genuine family interaction after that again. It was all so neatly fake, but they dealt with it. At least their parents could stay in the same room with each other. At least, for a little while. They divorced roughly around fifteen months later, a little bit after her brother's tenth birthday. They said they waited so Demyx could get one last good birthday before the divorce papers where signed, and while she had been upset with them for putting it off, she also had been thankful they kept her brother's feelings in mind.

It was the second Saturday if the month, meaning a family dinner, which also meant drama would ensue. At least Demyx tried to act civil, but Namine's older sister didn't know when to keep her mouth locked tight.

"Namine! Come help! I want it to be extra perfect for your little friends and Larxene's boyfriend! Maybe I should call Demyx and tell him to invite his girlfriend... Where is that boy..."

"Mom.."

"You're right, what if he doesn't have one? But that worries me sweetie, boys his age should have girlfriends! All he does is hang out with Axel all the time and I get this really big vibe that he's-"

"Mom! Calm down," her daughter smiled, placing the picture in its frame back down on the side table. "Xion and her older brother won't think any less of you if it's not perfect, which it will be. And stop worrying about Demyx, alright?.. He's not dating Axel, and you know that." _Anymore. _

This seemed to ease her mother. She returned the smile gratefully, knowing that soon her final daughter would grow up to leave her, just like her other babies. "Where is he? It's almost seven for crying out loud!"

"Slow your fucking horses down, mom." Namine slipped into the room just in time to hear the familiar ring of Larxene's vulgar language. Their mom shot a glare in her direction, a warning. "Sorry mum, I'll keep it PG at the table."

The doorbell rang, and the younger of the siblings scurried off to get it. "By the way mum, my boyfriend won't be coming over tonight. I dumped the sh-craphead. I thought about telling you sooner, but I chose later."

"Oh..." The woman sighed softly, "So this means no grandkids anytime soon?"

_We may fuck like rabbits, but we don't breed like them. _"Even if we were still together, no grandkids anytime soon."

"Xion and her brother are here," Namine peeked in, disappearing not too long after to keep their new arrivals company. Larxene looked to her mother, noting the 'we'll talk about your boyfriend later' look, though she would of course, just avoid the whole subject like always.

"Let's set the table, Demyx will be here soon. At least, I really hope so..." And she began babbling, like any other helpless mother would.

* * *

He didn't bother knocking, nor ringing the doorbell, when he arrived on the front steps of his childhood home at seven fifteen. Fixing his hair in the reflexion of the glass panels of the door, he jiggled the doorknob, thanking whoever for it opening.

The room was decorated just the way he remembered it. He had only been living out of the house for a little bit over a year now, but it all seemed like a distant memory. The pale yellow walls lined with family portraits and school pictures, the faint scent of lavender, the pencil marks on the doorframe between the dining room and living room- where a set of furious eyes observed him- it was exactly the same.

"Sit down, your food is getting cold." He swallowed, nervously fixing the sleeves of his hoodie over his knuckles as he walked into the room. There were guests. He wasn't expecting guests. It was one thing to be late to a family dinner, but when there were guests over? Demyx was screwed royally.

Namine, Larxene, his mother, Zexion, some girl who looked just like-

_Wait a minute_.

"Shit."

_This could not be happening. _

Zexion Iliuzija was sitting at the dinner table, looking straight at him. And he was anything but comfortable. "Demyx!" His mother hissed at his choice of language, hitting his arm and motioning him to sit beside the slate haired male. So, there he was, on the path to breaking the guest rule without even trying. He wasn't sure whether he should be proud or terrified.

"Sorry I'm late," the blond mumbled, sliding into the seat next to him. "I got out of work later than I wanted and well, obviously, it's an hour long drive. So... sorry. Again."

He almost forgot about how much his mother hated overly done apologies, until her sharp gaze sliced through him like a blade. "Just don't let it happen again. So, where do you work?" He could have lied, no, should have, but his mother would find out eventually, and he much rather deal with the less severe scolding than the latter options.

"The club Axel works at-" He tried to ignore the look his mother shot Larxene as he continued, "-I serve customers and clean up. It's a job." Partially a lie. But, it would have to do if he wanted to live before the night ended. _Though_, Demyx's attention returned to his right, _I'm not sure that's possible with __**him**__ around. _

"Your son plays well."

"Do you know each other?" Lyza Cerise poked idly at her dish, a mix of curiosity and possibilities plagued her. Worst case scenarios. A flash back to Demyx's father.

Zexion shook his head. "I only saw him play at open night in Oblivion."

"It's not 'open night'. We audition and sign up for those gigs, thank you. And why are you even here, anyways?" The musician snapped. Demyx knew his family would question him- his reaction was anything but one, that a person would give to an ordinary fan in the crowd. But at that moment, he didn't particularly care too much. Anger overtook his emotions, and sensible thinking.

"Demyx... This is Xion," his little sister spoke, letting him turn to face them before going on, "I invited her over for dinner.. And her brother was supposed to take her out anyway, so we invited him too. Please Dem, calm down.. I'm sorry, I didn't know-"

"It's alright, Nami. I'm just, overly stressed. First day of work, y'know?" Demyx gave a light chuckle, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry, Zexion, Xion. You remind me a little of someone who I struck a wrong chord with, and I just freaked. It won't happen again." The look on his mother's face agreed with the statement. It wouldn't happen again, or else he would bein serious shit.

"Now, let's eat." Her tone was charming again, which he was grateful for, but Demyx knew; he'd somehow be punished afterwards. He smiled at his mother, reassuring her that the rest of the night would go off without a hitch. But the damage was already done.

And he was in for an awkward and painful night.

* * *

**A/N: ...I am so sorry. Please forgive me. **

**I had a birthday, cosplay plans, work, summer reading. Life can be a bitch. Mur. But I hope you like it? ;_; I know it isn't much, but it's mostly building up things I need for the story. Mmsorry. Again. I love you all for reading and reviewing, and it makes me all happyfais, really. **

**Also, I would like to tell you this: I'm not sure how I'm going to pick or anything yet, probably a question, or maybe just have you voice your opinions, buuuuut, I will be asking for a bonus chapter/rule, just for the people who read my work. Like, you suggest something funky and I'll do it just for you. But that's later on, and this is just a warning for that. Either that, or free oneshot (any couple!). I'll keep you updated? Mur. Not sure.**

**So, please enjoy this chapter, and expect a more Zemyx based plot next chapter. :) Please read, review, shit your pants, throw bricks, y'know. **

**p.s. Lots of love and cookies. :I**


	4. Don't Believe Everything You Hear

**Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdm Hearts, for if I did, it's never be done. I'd get too lazy to finish creating it. Cause I'm that lame. ._.**

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* * *

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_Don't believe everything you hear._

* * *

Dinner was filled with painless topics, them mostly consisting of questions about Xion and her brother, seeing as Demyx's mother was rather nosey and didn't quite know her place in matters. But the few times that the blond peeked up to catch a glimpse of their guests (more like Zexion), they didn't seem too uncomfortable with her behavior. Which made the night, if only a little, easier.

They talked about Namine's crush, who she refused to reveal after Xion even mentioned it. Her brother felt sympathetic towards her, her pale face flushed pink in embarrassment and twiddling her fingers underneath the table in attempt to distract herself from thinking about it. Demyx on the other hand, happened to know who the person was and agreed with her reasons for secrecy.

They talked about Larxene's boyfriend, and the events leading to their breakup. Apparently he was a drunk who had a knack for gambling, which the eldest Cerise sibling didn't seem to mind back when he was winning rather than losing all the hard earned cash Larexene had been making with her new job. One night she got fed up, and kicked his sorry ass (butt, their mother corrected later on) out the front door.

They talked about their father, despite the awkwardness it could potentially bring to their guests. Lyza was reluctant at first, but she was a woman who stuck to her promises(unlike their father, she reminded them, eyes glued to the figure of her only son), so she continued on about how he was doing well, and that he loved and missed his children. Demyx noted, mentally, that she always neglected to mention the significant other of her ex husband.

The rest was mere babble. There were times where silence plagued- the clacking of forks and knives, the clearing of throats, and the faint hum that tickled Demyx's throat- made it all the more unbearable to be at the table. Somehow though, Namine and Xion always found a way to get a conversation started, if only for a few moments of time.

And then their mother broke through it.

Purpose shining through her eyes.

"So Zexion," Lyza sat back in her chair, noticing how her son's fingers danced against the hard wood of her tables, then looked to their house guest when the wretched noise ceased to exist, "Tell me a little more about this night my son played."

Demyx's head shot up, heart halting in his chest. _Would he tell?_

"There's not much to tell, Ms. Cerise-"

"Call me Lyza, dear," she said with a disbelieving smile.

"-Lyza. As your son said, he performed, well, and I liked it. I merely recognized him from the stage. He's not hard to miss, after all." Zexion's eyes were fixated on the plate in front of him, almost mesmerized by the subtle clank his fork made when it hit the circular object. "He's quite talented."

She didn't seem to care too much about her son's incredible talent, no, she never really had. She wanted a successful businessman as a son or rather, but Demyx had qualities that separated him from his mother's goals- a lust for creativity, a passion for music- qualities she refused to accept. "That's nice, isn't it girls?" A signal for the female siblings to leave the table.

Larxene abruptly stood up, picking up her plate with a wry smile. "Namine, Xion, why don't we go wash some dishes."

The girls all filed into the kitchen, while Demyx on the other hand, seemed to slink farther into his chair, almost certain he was trembling. "Is that all, Demyx?"

_No._ "Yeah, mum, why would there be more to the story?" Ever since his father's departure, his mother had learned the act of assumption, suspicion.

"I never know nowadays," she said, tapping her fingers along the bottom of her dining room table. "Sometimes, I wish you kids would tell me the damn truth. Little shi-" Zexion stood, picking up his plate abruptly.

"Lyza, despite your unnatural need for affirmation from your children, I do believe Demyx has a right to personal space, as do I. I find it rather irritable actually, to see how you behave towards your children-"

"Zexion," Demyx eyed his mother, swallowing, trying to speak. Anything.

"-No, please. Ms. Cerise, I understand that you want to be apart of your childrens' lives. I understand that a woman like you would be worried about the sexual and emotional relationships your children share with significant others that you yourself, do not know. The fact that your son and I conversed once, does not mean anything like that, and I refuse to sit here and be accused of something I was not a part of." The slate haired male took a breath after his continuous rant, picking up the empty plate in front of both Demyx and his mother, and brought the stack to the kitchen.

Lyza slumped back in her chair, staring blankly at the wall in front of her. Her son peeked over to steal a quick glance at it as well, but found nothing interesting. Beige. Just beige.

He let out a small sigh. "Hey, we have dessert out here! Who wants some?" One of his sisters offered, Larxene appearing with two small plates of cheesecake, Demyx assumed, store bought.

"Let mom have some, I'm not hungry." He stood up from his chair, letting his eyes watch the line as they all came back into the dining room, one by one. Everyone had a plate except for Zexion, whose arms were crossed over his chest, whose face bore no significant expression,whose eyes made occasional eye contact with the musician.- who, in return, looked away and to his mother to see her poking at her food.

"Demyx, why don't you show Zexion around the place?"

He tried to protest, but it was too late, the guest already agreed.

Pushing out of their chairs with small squeaks, the blond gestured him over to the staircase, where they ascended. Zexion observed the many photos that graced Demyx's own childhood home; school pictures of the siblings, neat and posed family portraits, all evenly spaced, lovingly placed. "They're nice."

"We're a fucked up family, you know that, so you can drop the compliments." Demyx replied when he finally reached the top, hands shoved into his shallow pockets. "I wanted to say thanks. I know the last time we saw each other, we weren't on the best of terms. So I wanted to say sorry as well."

Zexion laughed, quiet, but just loud enough to send the blond's heart into a frenzy of confusion and feelings. "I'm the one who came to you, yelled at you for something so pitifully idiotic, and then decided to seal the deal with a drunken kiss. You shouldn't be apologizing, Demyx."

There was that word again.

_Drunk. _

It didn't seem right, using that word to describe what happened. He would have **known**, right? He wasn't so oblivious or gullible to believe that- but Axel insisted, Zexion encouraged, he.. Demyx wasn't exactly sure what it had been, but he did know what it wasn't- spontaneous and drunk.

Okay, so maybe there was a possibility. But the chances had to be low.

"Are you sure?" He whispered softly in a questioning tone.

Zexion didn't even bother to raise an eyebrow. "Sure about what?"

They slowly made their way down the hall, passing by the bathroom, Namine's room, his mother's, and a few others Demyx didn't bother to introduce. "And this," he halted in front of a fading blue door, "this my old room."

"You never answered my question."

"I don't know if I could consider it a drunken kiss," Demyx shrugged lightly, hugging his arm to his side while he shifted his weight in an awkward manner. "because I don't know if you were exactly drunk."

His eyebrows narrowed. "Are you calling me a liar?"

The blond shook his head rapidly, attempting to keep his bright eyes from going wide. "No! I'm not calling you a liar, I was... I'm sorry, sometimes I speak my opinions before thinking and.. I'm sorry."

Zexion sighed, taking a moment to think things through, unlike the male in front of him. And then, dragging the taller male into the bedroom, he let the door click shut behind them.

Demyx was alone again with this person. This time, the air didn't smell like alcohol nor a night club bathroom, but like the ridiculous scent of forest pine, which happened to be his mother's doing- it killed the moment.

_Wait, what moment?_

He was **not** having another moment with Zexion Iliuzija. Not in his family home.

But the other's body language begged to differ. He took small steps, gradually coming closer to his slender frame, placing a hand on the musician's cheek. "Let me prove to you I'm not a liar." Their lips met for the second time in the past forty eight hours, not so much a colliding force, more gentle, yet firm. Like he was trying to prove a point.

Demyx melted under his touch, aching to deepen the kiss.

Afraid. He was never as impulsive as Axel when it came to physical affairs, and having Zexion, kissing him like this... frightened him. He was merely a stranger, but already, he felt connected through the kiss. He felt those theoretical, metaphorical, whatever the hell they were, sparks. And the smaller man couldn't deny them either, by the way he clung to the kiss.

The blond's hand shook as he raised it to the male's side, cautiously placing it on his hip bone, relief rushing through him when he didn't pull away. Just as their tongues went to meet, Zexion pulled away, aiming to catch his breath.

"There. A difference right?"

Quite honestly, he hadn't noticed with the euphoric way his heart pounded. "Yeah, a difference. I believe you."

His mother had always taught him to not believe everything he heard. Half of the world told lies, and the other half were the people who believed in them. She 'aimed to teach her children to be neither of these people.' But right now, not believing Zexion, meant he'd lose something. Zexion himself. Not that he really had him anyway.

"I should get going... Long ride home." Demyx scratched his head, pulling his hand away from the male's side.

"Thanks for showing me around," he mumbled, turning on his heel in haste to head for the door. The blond stopped him, scrambling around the room before coming along an old notebook and a pen, quickly writing a series of numbers.

"My number," he clarified, tearing a corner of the page off to hand it to him. "I broke my cell phone not too long ago, so it's my home number, but... If you ever want to hang out, or just call.." Zexion nodded, stuffing the paper into his pocket, practically running out the door in his quick stride.

_What had just happened?_

_

* * *

_

Demyx said his goodbyes to his family.

A gentle sister who wished him well with his job.

A big mouthed sibling who ruffled his hair, a grin taking ahold of her features.

A family friend who said she had enjoyed meeting him.

A mother who kissed his forehead, told him she missed him.

A stranger who stood there quietly, looked him straight in the eyes;

_'Bye Demyx.'_

He smiled kindly. It was all he could do to refrain from running out the door.

* * *

The drive home seemed too short. Demyx may have spent hours in his car, but with all the thoughts that flooded his mind, he became easily disoriented when it came to time. What was two hours, seemed like twenty minutes.

And he couldn't go straight home.

He drove by Axel's house, though he of all people knew that Saturdays were his busy nights at the club and he wouldn't be home until early the night morning. Sighing, he pulled into the driveway, wishing the redhead's car was sitting there; an invitation for him to come in- make himself at home - vent.

The blond stayed there for a while, eyes closed, distancing himself from the world. That was one thing he loved about Axel- he somehow made it possible to pass down his calming effects to even his driveway.

Finally, he managed to turn the key in the ignition and drive off. It wasn't like he could stay there forever (although he'd like to). Ten minutes or so later, he was opening his front door, thankful he was out of his mother's reach. He just couldn't deal with his mother if he tried.

He wandered into his kitchen, checking over his list. He hadn't really done anything new, but he put a check next to rule number seven. (_Don't believe everything you hear._) He had to admit he went against that rule today with Zexion. Another check to the rule about kissing boys, which wasn't a surprise. Lately, he'd been breaking that rule left and right.

He backed up, taking in the view of the paper. He had so much he had to do, so much he had to prove. He dropped the pen onto the counter, letting out an aggravated grunt.

"This sucks."

_You couldn't have said it any better buddy, _he thought, hitting the play button on his message machine. Maybe, if life decided to be nice to him at least, one of the messages would be Zexion.

The first two were busts (mom calling about being late), the third a message from Axel while he was on break, asking him to call tomorrow when he woke up, and the fourth his landlord. Rent was due soon, blahblahblahblah... He just didn't care.

It was the fifth message however, that caught his attention.

"Demyx..." It wasn't Zexion's voice that said his name. "I guess you're not home right now. I can't blame you, it is a Saturday night, and you're still young. I'll try calling back soon, or you could call me or something. I just want to talk to you. I love you, Dem."

It was his father's.

* * *

**A/N: You must really hate me. I feel really bad, and I send my deepest apologies out to my readers. I had a lot of crap going on, from Kingdom Hearts: Birth by Sleep, to the first month of school where things are hectic... It's just been a crazy two months, and I am a very lousy writer and an amazing procrastinator. From now I, I think that some of you should PM if I hadn't updated for a while. I read the reviews today and that encouraged and inspired me to write the rest of this. Sorry if it seems rushed! I added a scene just for my readers (coughkisscough) that I wasn't originally planning. **

**Lots of love, review, whatever. (: I love you guys. **


	5. Never Trust Your Father's Word

**I'm so sorry! No excuses! None that are valid anyway. **

**I'm truly apologetic for the delay and I hope you stick through this still. I love you all.**

**Disclaimer: No characters belong to me. Nothing, nada. Only the plot.**

**Read, enjoy, review (:**

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_Don't Trust Your Father's Word_

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Time.

Time seemed to pass by slowly. Almost like it was frozen. Usually, this would have aggravated Demyx. He hated the silence; the moments where the world would stop spinning and nothing around him was alive to fill the void inside him- but now, he didn't seem to mind it. He had brought his knees to his chest, curled up in the center of his couch, the lonely piece of furniture in his so called living room.

The sight was unsettling for Axel. From what he could see from the blond's kitchen, Demyx was having a staring contest with the dull plaster of his walls, blue eyes holding a vacant stare. He hardly stirred in his time there, the only sign of life he showed were the soft breaths that caused his body to rise up and down, and the clenching and unclenching of a bulky electronic device in his hand.

He wasn't necessarily sure what he could do. It seemed that his best friend was torn, and he wasn't sure how to go about it. "Hey Dem, you don't have to decide today," he offered, resting against his counters. He never really noticed the lack of food in his kitchen, never sought the need to observe the blond's house with such detail- but looking back and forth between his best friend and the place he called his home, he never realized how Demyx fit the sterotype. A starving musician, with hardly any money to pay the bills. With his new job in line, the latter would be a task easier to fix, but that didn't change anything.

Axel hadn't realized the hardships of being an artist. He's had a steady job since he was sixteen, a mother who wasn't completely crazy, a father who at least left something for his family to live off of when he left the world, and a talent for attracting people left and right. Demyx had none of that.

"You don't understand." And he had to admit, he really didn't have any right to say he did really understand. He was his best friend, and in that, watched him grow and face all the things in his life, but never truly experienced them for himself. "This is my father. The man who abandoned me. He left my family in the dark for a man without batting an eyelash and now wants to come back into my life."

The redhead took one more deep sigh before wandering over to the confused sitarist. "Demyx, trust me, I know things are hard for you. I can just tell. But right now, you don't know what to feel. You've spent all these years under your mom's house and law. Influenced. Maybe he didn't fuck up as bad as you want to believe he did."

Demyx only shook his head in response to this. "No he did fuck me over, Axel." His cerulean gaze never left the sight of the phone in his lightly sun kissed hand.

"If you were in his shoes, what would you have done?"

His eyes snapped up to meet Axel's, a look of accusation on his face. He slightly grimaced, anger, an unusual emotion that rarely graced his features, rippling through his every vein. "I wouldn't have left my family."

"Maybe," Axel took his cue for leaving the blond's apartment as he gritted his teeth, "or maybe you'd choose love. Maybe, he likes to rebel from rule just like you. Tell me this; would you rather be miserable in a house with a woman who doesn't love you and thinks you're utterly repulsive, or would you choose a happy life with a man who gave you everything you need and more? Think about it. Think about his feelings. Perhaps he didn't want to feel hate under his own roof." He shrugged, at the door by then. "Demyx, I'm not saying I'm on his side or anything. Look, just think about it. He's reaching out. I gotta go, duty calls. Love ya, blondie."

Axel was out the door, and Demyx was out of his mind.

He honestly didn't know what to think, what to believe anymore. There was a part of him needing him to hate this man he called father. He outright left right? But as he brought logic into the equation, his best friend was right.

He spent is whole life seeing the man his mother wanted him to see. And Demyx wasn't the kind of person to hate anyone when it came down to it. He just had to think things through. That's all.

His eyes jumped back down to the phone resting in his hand, his thumb stroking the redial button idly. "You can do this Demyx," he encouraged himself softly. The male took another deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut before pressing down on the call button before he had time to take back his decision.

The faint sound of ringing filled his ears as he raised it to where he could hear the phone more clearly. "Don't chicken out. Don't chicken out. You can do this." It felt as the world melted before him, it was nothing but the phone and him, and the wall across from his slender frame now. Nothing but the hush sound of his choked breaths and ringing.

Waiting.

"Hello, this is-"

Demyx hung up before he could do anything else. He didn't blink, nor did he even let a single thought run through his mind before he ended the call. Perhaps he was simply unprepared, or he just didn't want to talk to his father, but he had to think back to what Axel had said.

Yes, it was a decision he needed to make, but that didn't mean today. He set the phone face down onto the cushion beside him before making his way to this bathroom. The blond really just needed a nice, long shower to clear his mind. Phone calls could wait.

* * *

Demyx entered his living room, ruffling his wet down hair with a towel he found laying next to his hamper. His blond locks hung loosely, sticking to his neck and the sides of his face, an unusual feeling for him, even though with every shower he took the exact aftermath occurred. But he didn't have anywhere to be until seven, so he could get away with fooling around without the hassle of fixing his hair up or caring about appearance.

He plopped onto the couch, watching the phone bounce up, then letting gravity pull it back down to the plush surface. Dare he look at the screen? _Well_, he paused his train of thought, _Zexion could have potentially called. That'd be good news. _

But good news seemed to come sparingly nowadays. Demyx crinkled his nose, shifting his gaze between his phone and the tempting sitar sitting across the room, inviting him over for a stroke of its strings or two. He snatched the phone and placed it on the small table beside the furniture he sat upon, before making his way over to his prize possession to take back with him to his seat.

If there was one thing the bubbly male could do, and do well, was stall- aside from playing practically any instrument given to him. Most weren't over exaggerating when it came to his musical talents and ability to infuse his diversity.

Demyx would say his strong suit was sitar or guitar; anything with a pick and strings. His sister Larxene preferred when he attempted to go harder with the electric guitar or even take his chance on drums, something completely out of his comfort zone. Namine once handed over her violin, and regretted it ever since, feeling lost to her brother's looming shadow. And of course, his mother, even had a top favorite of her son. His piano skills were simply magic.

And even though he deserved everything bit of it, he never felt the need to brag. To him, music was a gift, you had to treat it with care. You told it your bitter emotions and show it your tears and scars, and they'd keep your secret.

On a day like today, he turned to his sitar with the feeling of confusion, hoping the feel of the thin strings would help him make sense of his situation. He played with the instrument, carefully tuning it with small turns and twists.

Suddenly, his eyes darted to the table.

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

His heart stopped in his chest. Either one of them calling- would potentially prove to be disastrous due to the lack of thinking straight. The blond set down his sitar against the head of the couch, swallowing a little bit before reaching for the phone. With every inch his hand went, it seemed another century had been added to the time it took for him to reach it.

_Ring. Ring. Ring. _

He scanned the miniature screen, not recognizing the number he read. Which only meant... Zexion? Could he really be calling? He sat there wide eyed for a moment, thinking about the possibility that the guy could actually have interest in him.

_Ring. Ring. Ring. _

"Hello?"

"Hello.. is this Demyx?" His heart stopped beating at the sound of the slate haired male's voice. Why was he reacting this way? He truly wasn't that excited, or nervous, or anything like that for that matter, right? Right. "This is Zexion. Zexion Iliuzija. You know who. Anyway, I was wondering if you were performing again Friday."

Demyx nodded enthusiastically despite the fact the other couldn't see his reaction. "Yes, I play every Friday now actually. Why? Can't get enough of my mad skills?" _Insert awkward laughter_, he groaned inwardly at the sound of his broken chuckle.

"No, not really." It was cold, harsh, but too harsh. "My sister wanted me to take her to see your show. That's all."

"Oh."

There was a long pause. "You didn't actually believe that I would want to come see you perform live willingly again, right? I mean, come on, last time didn't go so well." Zexion droned on and on and Demyx just wanted him to shut up.

"What do you mean?" The blond questioned, not quite sure what he meant by 'didn't go so well', crossing his legs as he awaited an explanation. It seemed as though he needed a lot of those, especially lately.

"Well you embarrassed me without my permission by dedicating a song to me, and I kissed you out of anger and spite, which I'm assuming led you on and that's why you gave me your number. You know, mistakes tend to lead you through a cycle kind of like this one." Demyx could picture the male's emotionless face as he said those words, hardly giving a damn for a second about how he felt.

"Yeah, you're right," another awkward laugh came out, "haha, sorry. Won't happen again. Without your permission anyway."

"I'm pretty sure you won't ever get my permission, but thanks anyway," Zexion mumbled into the phone so he could barely hear. "Look, I have to go. But Xion's excited so, yeah, Friday. We'll be there I suppose."

_Dial tone._

That really didn't go as planned. "Not too bad," he lied to himself, running his fingers along the edges of his home phone. "He'll warm up to me." But that was only a hope, not a fact.

Without too much afterthought, he began dialing the man he attempted to call earlier's number- no hesitation, no feeling of nauseousness, nothing too overwhelming, to his relief. Again the phone began to ring on the other line, Demyx's mind doing summersaults and cartwheels now he had actually built up the nerve to do it.

"Dad?"

"Dem?"

"I have a show this Friday at this club I work at on 27 Common Street, and I was wondering if you wanted to come. I know you, uh, are busy and all with work and your life but it'd really mean a lot if you were there, and I know that'd it'd be a great show cause I'd, ummm, dedicate a song to you and well I know that sounds kind of cheesy but it'd be well, great! So if you were willing yo go-"

"Of course Demyx, all you had to do was ask." Demyx could feel the smile in his father's voice, leading him to beam as well. No matter how much he thought his dad a jerk for leaving, there was something that made him incredibly happy when he did something to lighten his mood.

"Wow, thanks dad. I just.. it'd mean a lot."

"I know, kid, I know. What time should I be there?" He asked his son.

"Around seven?" He purposely gave his father an early arrival time due to his record for being unusually late to everything he did and went to. It sort of irked Demyx in a way he couldn't understand. Maybe it was the face it screamed 'I don't care as much as I say I do' when he would show up late.

"I'll be there. Don't you worry, Dem. And I miss you."

"I won't worry, I promise. I miss you too dad."

He was putting a little too much faith in his father, and he knew that, but that couldn't help but smile as he hung up the phone. It was probably his best decision all night, he found himself to believe.

Demyx placed the phone back where he previously had it, going back for his sitar to begin his playing. And to think, before he made those two calls, he was about to play some sad song. Well, not anymore. This time, he was going to play a song, as bright as his smile or as bright as the sun itself. He felt like this time, maybe he did deserve it.

* * *

"So Axel, guess who's coming to my show Friday?" Demyx leaned over the bar, hardly paying attention to Marluxia as he went over the ropes of the job again just to make sure. Luckily, he was too full of himself to really notice the lack of eyes or attention on him.

The redhead pursed his lips in thought, tapping a pointer finger to his bottom lip. "I dunno, does it begin with a Z and end with an -exion, by chance?"

"Well yes," the male grinned, "but guess who else?"

Axel slightly frowned, disappointed by the fact that his best friend didn't seem as excited about the fact his hot new crush wanted to come to his show. "Well it's obviously not your mother, cause you so would not be excited about that.. sooo... Hm. One hint please."

"Starts with a d, three letter word."

His emerald eyes lit up with realization. "No."

"Yes," Demyx clapped his hands together in joy. "Yes, yes, yes! My father is coming to watch the show!"

"Congrats buddy!" Axel wanted to be happy for the bouncing blond, but couldn't find it in his heart. He was the one who tried to make Demyx see his old man wouldn't be so bad, but in all reality he found it hard to understand how he could change his mind in such a black and white manner like a little kid. He was scared. Scared that his friend would get hurt. Scared he would end up feeling about his dad as he did before.

He had every right to be with all the pain Mr. Cerise put his son in the first time.

* * *

**Seems a little rushed, eh? I agree.**

**Anyway expect better update times, seriously. No more eight month span. :)**

**Again, review! Reviews = more writing :3**

**Question: What song do you think Demyx should sing in dedication to this dad on Friday? **


	6. Don't Expect Too Much

**Hello readers! Well, it's been a while since I updated and for that I'm truly sorry. Things happen, and blah blah blah. So this is for you guys who are stil standing by this story despite my procrastination and writer's block. I can't say I can promise I will update more regularly though. I'm a teenage girl, who is in her junior year of high school. I'm busy and life is full of unexpected things. I can say I will try harder. That's all I can give you. So without further ado, here is the next chapter! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts, just these words. I also do not own the song "Bridge Over Troubled Water". This is purely for entertainment. **

* * *

_Don't expect too much. From anyone._

* * *

Showtime.

Well, _almost. _

Demyx fiddled idly with the strings of his sitar, accompanied by Namine and her friends behind the curtain. Of course Axel was busy working, so he really didn't have the time to be a supportive best friend. A soft sigh escaped his pursed lips. _Where was he?_

His little sister wrapped a petite arm around his, nuzzling his shoulder to comfort him. "It's okay Demyx, he's always late, you know that." Translation: he probably won't show up, but don't look so sad.

"I know," he mumbled, quietly thanking her under his breath. How did he allow himself to get such high hopes. It had been rather silly of him- that he couldn't deny.

He kissed her forehead before promptly standing up. "You guys can go grab seats before it gets crowded. I have another fifteen minutes before I go on anyway." She nodded up at her older brother, bright eyes telling him it'll be okay no matter what happened that night. Her innocence made him almost believe her.

The blond watched as she trailed off with her small group of friends, Zexion's little sister and a few others whose names had escaped him due to his lack of visits to his mother's house. He was glad she was making some though, slightly jealous all in the same moment at how popular she was becoming at her high school. Demyx wished he had such a tight pack when he was younger.

His eyes peaked through the curtain out of curiosity. The audience were certainly not lacking in any aspect that night, he noted. For the most part, anyway. He shifted his sight to the clock hanging crookedly on the wall. Twelve minutes, and still no sign of him.

"As usual." Nothing ever changed in his family. He wasn't going to show up, he just knew it.

"But what if he did?" Demyx asked no one, surrounded by unused chairs and instruments covered by white tarps that made imaginary hills behind the stage. He smiled at the thought of the floor being a field or valley, and the clutter being the snowy mountains. He almost wished he was actually there opposed to the show he was about to perform for hundreds of people.

Plopping down in a previously uncovered chair, Demyx relaxed a little. His tense shoulders bobbing down in relief. If only Axel was there to cheer him up. The male thought back to before the redhead's shift, and the way he wrapped a toned arm around his bony figure and rubbed his spiked blond hair.

"_Promise me you'll be okay if he doesn't show, Dem." _ _Axel pressed his nose against his best friend's, a half smile forming on his mouth. "Please. This is your night, and I don't want it ruined." _

"_No, no, I'll be okay. My mom always told me not to expect too much of anything anyway. So, I'm used to it." All lies aside, Demyx did have pretty high hopes for his dad's visit. He had just seem so genuinely excited to come see him perform. _

"_You're positive?" He asked again, his emerald stare cutting through the musician. _

_Slightly hesitant to answer, Demyx flashed a smile at him. "Of course I'm positive! I always am!" But you really aren't, he thought to himself as he so innocently lied to his friend. _

"_Well, okay then." The taller man pulled away, giving him a soft pat on the back. "Knock everyone dead. Or not.. then we wouldn't have customers, and then we wouldn't get paid, and then-"_

"_I get it, I get it," the male laughed, throwing his Sitar's case onto his back. "Thanks Ax, have a nice time at work. I'll try not to knock everyone dead tonight so you can afford your apartment space." _

_But as soon as he had walked away, the laughter had stopped. The giddiness dissolved. He felt sad again. The need to see his father walk through those club doors only grew bigger as he headed out back to warm up before the club opened for business that night. _

His cerulean eyes were snapped open at the sound of footsteps creaking up the small set of stairs to the side of the back room. "Hello?" He called out, hand cupped around his pink mouth.

"Hey." Demyx couldn't believe his eyes. Shorter than sin with dark eyes and a haunting face that seeped into his skull, Zexion stood before him. He practically glowed in the dim lighting, he couldn't help but notice this as he stared.

"Hey." It was practically a squeak. His cheeks flushed. "What are you doing here? Not to be rude, I'm sorry if that sounded rude-"

"I just came to check up on you." Despite his monotone way of putting it, the blond could see the slight gleam of care in his cobalt gaze. Slight, being the operative word.

"You came to check up on me? Are you sure you're not he one who needs to be checked out? I have a hospital on speed dial you know..." He giggled nervously, heart thumping in his chest. Not completely sure why it was going at it so hard. "Sorry, sorry. But seriously, check up on me?"

Zexion (not so subtly) masked his curiosity as he watched the male's eyebrows raise with intrigue. "Yeah," he started, shifting his eyes anywhere but directly into Demyx's, "I was sitting at the table when Axel came over and started talking about your father. He then rambled on about how I shouldn't tell you he told me, but I didn't really care. I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright. Xion said he hasn't shown up yet, as far as she knew... Has he?"

Muttering a mild curse towards the redhead, Demyx groaned, rubbing a temple as he peered up from his lap. "No, he hasn't."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." His smile was that of pain, not physical, just mental. Pain of getting his hopes up, and seeing them crash down before him. "I should have known better, really. But it means a lot to have you come in and ask me how I'm doing. The only person I can talk to is pouring coffee and mingling with strangers." His once airy laugh was nothing short of a crack.

"Things will work out, Demyx," Zexion insisted to him.

He brushed a loose strand of hair from out of his face. "How can you know that?

"I don't." He gave a simply shrug at his blunt comment. "But I can hope. Besides you have plenty of friends here to support you. The people who care are the people who stand beside you from start to finish, and all the others can, quite frankly, go fuck themselves." Demyx blinked at how nonchalantly the shorter man said it, all the while knowing he was right.

His stomach tightened into knots, unable to come up with logical words to counter or even reply to Zexion's statement. Six minutes until his performance was announced, and he was up on stage. "Are you one of those people?" He practically hit himself at the fact he strayed off the important topic. He blamed it on his subconscious, which knew his fragile mind couldn't possibly handle any more talk of the possibility of his father _not_ showing up.

"I guess that's really up to you."

"Then why are you here?" Confusion danced with his words.

"Why do you think?"

He paused, taking a moment to think about the situation. "I really don't know, Zexion."

With a rare smile, the male turned for the stairs, heading back to take a seat (presumably with his younger sister). "Think about it, and ask me about it later." An almost silent good luck reached Demyx's ears before he disappeared from his sight.

He was such a strange character. But Demyx didn't mind. Despite the nausea, the blond felt slightly better about the whole situation. He whispered "thanks" into the musty air as he heard his name being called by an eccentric Marluxia, even though Zexion couldn't hear it through the walls. A part of him really believed if he tried, maybe he could.

But wall whispering was for another day. Right then and there, whether his father was there or not, he had to perform. His floorboards moaned as his feet came down on them full force. "No going back."

Not like he really had anything to go back to.

Sitar propped in his lap, Demyx gave a cheerful smile to his audience. "Hey guys! The name's Demyx Cerise, and I'm your entertainment for tonight!" Cheers, clapping- it wasn't all in his head or a laugh track in a stereo. The thought exhilarated him. "So first off, I'm going to be singing..."

He went through the motions, strumming the instrument with a musical passion he had in him his entire life and wailing raw notes that suited his voice and style. His lineup was a mix of genres, from pop to alternative and so on- a sloppy set that he, as an unexperienced performer (at least in front of a real audience, being payed and all), has through together last moment from a collection of songs he knew like the back of his incredibly clumsy hands.

Despite the randomness of the playlist, he executed them all _perfectly_, or at least, what he defined as perfect: no mess ups and great reactions at the end of them. Song by song, fast and slow, trailed on through the hour. Occasionally he'd tell or joke, or make a comment to communicate with his listeners, feeling satisfaction with every chuckle he rose out of them.

During those moments of not playing, he'd scan the the crowd of people. But throughout the night, he never caught one glimpse of the man he called his father.

The evening was coming to a close when Demyx cleared his throat to interrupt the steady flow of clapping. "Thank you, thank you all so much. So for my last song, I really wanted to dedicate a song for my father. I don't know where you are right now, but I'm singing 'Bridge Over Troubled Water'. Your favorite." He attempted to force a smile, not trying to show the crowd the sadness in his features.

He gently placed his Sitar into its respective case, picking up the mike to bring it over to the grand piano sitting on center stage. "I really hope you all like this," he grinned half-heartedly, slipping in the mike into a stand attached to the instrument.

Demyx began playing hesitantly, stroking the keys delicately as he sang the opening lines.

"_When you're weary, feeling small,_

_When tears are in your eyes, I will dry_

_them all;_

_I'm on your side, when times get rough_

_And friends just can't be found,_

_Like a bridge over troubled water_

_I will lay me down._

_Like a bridge over troubled water_

_I will lay me down."_

He desperately pleaded not to mess up, afraid he might break down and cry in front of everyone. But he carried on strong, soon finding himself on the chorus, and smoothly transitioning into the next verse with ease. He looked over his shoulder as she sang, noticing a few members in the front row dabbing at the corners of their eyes with napkins. He spotted Axel giving him a thumbs up a little ways into the sets of tables, and rolled his light eyes.

_ "When you're down and out,_

_When you're on the street,_

_When evening falls so hard_

_I will comfort you._

_I'll take your part._

_When darkness comes_

_And pain is all around,_

_Like a bridge over troubled water_

_I will lay me down._

_Like a bridge over troubled water_

_I will lay me down."_

The blond really couldn't immerse himself in the music like usual, caught up in the meaning of the words, the faces in the crowd, and the man that wasn't there. He was nearing the end, he realize, the time passing much quicker than expected. His eyes caught onto a certain pair of cobalt irises, Zexion surprisingly never tearing his own stare away. His heart thumped at an unordinary pace, just by looking at him. _How did he do it?_

"_Sail on silvergirl,_

_Sail on by._

_Your time has come to shine._

_All your dreams are on their way._

_See how they shine._

_If you need a friend_

_I'm sailing right behind._

_Like a bridge over troubled water_

_I will ease your mind."_

With a slight fumble over his late few words, Demyx's voice echoed throughout the club.

"_Like a bridge over troubled water_

_I will ease your mind."_

The people in the crowd stood up in hysterics, applauding and whistling their hearts out at his last performance. "Thank you," he spoke into the mike, "I hope you all have a good night!" As he stood up, he bowed humbly before locking up his case and beelining it for backstage.

Demyx's heart couldn't stop beating so damn fast.

After regaining his composure and being greeted by his youngest fans (Namine and her gang), Demyx Cerise found his butt being placed onto a bar stool by his best friend. "You killed tonight, Dem! KILLED."

Everyone cheered and patted his back, or ruffled his hair in their supportive manners. All seemed so natural, all seemed as if it should have been perfect. But with his father's absence, his mood was slightly dampened.

Attempting to get his over this one flaw of the night, he waved back to the bartenders before filing through the masses of customers to find Zexion. He did think about what he said, and honestly, he still had no clue. All he had were more questions opposed to answers. Anyhow, he was going to have a chat with the shorter man.

A few minutes flew by before he locked onto his target, sitting with a book in his lap as he drank his cup of visibly steaming coffee. "Zexion!" Demyx called out to him, ushering him over eagerly. From the distance, he could see the the male packing up his bag before he headed over. "Come with me!" Their hands were now connected as the hyperactive blond dragged him backstage once again to "confront" him.

"Yes? Did you give up trying to figure out what I had meant already?" Zexion quipped.

"Uh, well, no, well okay, yes! I just need to know!"

"Why do you need to know?" There was a slight tilt of his messy head, oddly hued locks falling over his eyes. "It's not like you're going to die if I don't tell you."

"Um, yeah, I probably will." Demyx corrected the sensical man before him. His hands found his shoulders as he lightly shook Zexion, eyes pleading for an answer.

He sighed, giving up on the idea of letting him wonder. It was that, or be bombarded with looks of innocence and whiny begging every time he saw him from then on out. "What exactly do you want to know?"

If he was a dog, Demyx's ears would have perked up with excitement. He stopped shaking the man, but never fully lifted his palms off the other's bony shoulders as they spoke. "Were you here to chaperone Xion," he started with wide eyes, "or were you here to see me perform?"

"Why does that matter-"

"Please, you said you'd answer me!" He reminded him.

Demyx stood there in silence, waiting for the other to say something. Anything. "I guess, you could say, I came here for you."

"What?" He felt that feeling of nausea bubbling in his stomach again. But this time, it felt more like butterflies. That were everywhere- buzzing in his throat, beating at his chest to be freed, against every curve of his body.

"I'm not repeating myself, number nine." There was a hint of joking in his tone that Demyx picked up on, perhaps even made up, using his wild imagination.

"I know you really don't like me all too much, Zexion, but thank you for everything tonight. I'm not sure if I could have gone onto that stage without you there." Demyx's face lit up with a smile as bright as the stars and sun combine, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

A feeling of shock jolted through Zexion's body. Not from the gesture, but from the fact his first instinct wasn't to just wipe it off his skin. "Yeah." In the blond's eyes, this was the equivalent of 'you're welcome Demyx'. And he probably was right.

"Good night Zexion! I'll be seeing you soon, okay?" A brief but tight embrace and the musician was off into the now clearing club. The male stood there, taking a few seconds to recollect himself.

"Night, Demyx."

_What was going on?_

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**I love you guys, despite this horrible chapter! Review, pretty please? That's usually what keeps me going. :)**_  
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